Chapter Text
Alina - Age 12
The first thing Alina noticed about the Little Palace was the buzz of silence. The orphanage had always been very loud, filled with raucous laughter and the pitter-patter of little children running. With everything happening here, she had expected it to be at least as loud but at lunch, no one spoke much, they whispered. Even shoes didn't clack. She noticed very soon that silence very much had a sound; a quiet hum. It was inside her head, against her skull, and giving her headaches.
She wanted to go back to Ana Kuya and Mal. To the dratted orphanage, where people were mean but at least kind enough to be loud about it. She lay back on her large bed. Maybe another letter. Mal hadn't answered any yet but it had only been a week —
There was a sharp knock on the door.
"Come in!." she said
"Hello, Alina." The voice was smooth as a pebble and as deep as the sea. Him.
The door opened and General Kirigan walked in. He was a pale, tall man with slicked-back ebony hair and intelligent grey eyes. His face looked like unsmoothed diamonds. Sharp. He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling and his smile wider than was humanly possible.
"How is the Little Palace? Have you been enjoying yourself?"
She nodded.
"That is very good indeed." His smile widened further. Then he looked back to the corridor and gestured to something. In came a girl who seemed to be her age. Her eyes are dark, her dark hair held back in a single plait down her back, her blue Kefta was ironed and smelled like roses and her skin is brown. She looks like she is constipated.
"Alina, this is Zoya. Zoya, Alina. I presume you haven't met?" Kirigan asks.
Alina shook her head.
"Zoya is an excellent Grisha, one of the best at the Little Palace."
Silence filled the room like smoke and the air turned uncomfortable. Zoya smiled too but her smile was not the least bit genuine. The silence stretched on.
Finally, she spoke, something in her voice lightly mocking, "Hello Alina, I hope we can be good friends."